


Mercy

by ryanblazewood



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, FakeHaus, GTA AU, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanblazewood/pseuds/ryanblazewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from FuckYeahRTfanfic on tumblr<br/>"October 13th: “Please…Please…Have mercy on me.”"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Well, without giving away too much, it's kinda sad... :)

It was mid October in Los Santos. After a string of unsuccessful heists initiated by the Fake AH Crew and FunHaus, each crew decided that the spooky season was about the right time to take a break for a bit. However, several massive heatwaves were wiping across California, and neither crew were prepared for the unpredictable amount of violence caused during these heatwaves.

While FunHaus had grown used to the severe weather changes, the boys from Fake AH couldn't seem to grasp the concept of 90°F winds all throughout the night. Ryan was most calm, along with Jack. The two of them decided upon spending the hottest parts of the day's inside the same air conditioned room, as central air in Geoff's apartment was nonexistent. The next in terms of most calm was Geoff. He liked the heat, agreeing with scientists on the fact that heat gets you drunk quicker, which was all the better to him. Next came Gavin. Last was Michael (for obvious reasons).

Michael became the most violent of them all during these heatwaves. Often smashing in the windows of innocent civilians cars for the pure reason of no air conditioning for them. If it peaked over 101°F, he was livid. He screamed at passers by, knocked over displays in stores, and even initiated fist fights in every parking lot he stepped in. The boy couldn't be controlled.

Especially one Saturday, which the top temperature reached 112°F.

He came running into Geoff's, screaming about some nonsense that occurred in a gas station down the street. Incoherent yells about "him" and "that bastard" could be heard throughout the hall, waking Gavin from a nap, and annoying the hell out of a very drunk Geoff.

"What're you saying? That you saw who?" Geoff questioned, rubbing his eyes lazily while slumping against the kitchen island. Michael met his eyes, red and angry faced, with freckles accenting his expression.

"I. Saw. Him." He repeated, spitting out every word with a spoonful of spit and malice.  
"Him." Geoff's eyes widened, his brain flipping the metaphorical switch and placing the final piece to Michael's verbal puzzle.

"Shit. Shit shit shitshit fuck dick. Where, Michael, where!?" He panicked, pushing himself away from the island and pacing in front of the dining table. Jack and Ryan entered the room, presumably because of Michael's current lack of loudness. Michael watched Geoff push his hair back, stopping mid-pace to take a deep breath. Geoff looked over to the younger man. Eye contact. Shared uneasiness. A mutual nod.

"Boys, we're going out. Load up. Jack, give Kovic and his crew a ring. He's back, and we aren't losing this fight."

Three hours later the FunHaus boys arrived. Michael and Geoff intricately laid out instructions to each person in the room, mapped out where Kovic and James would hide out, where Joel and Spoole would stash weapons, and Peake, Lawrence, and Bruce would wait for Michael and Geoff, and where Gavin, Jack, and Ryan wound ambush from. Mt. Chiliad would be their battlefield.

"Everyone got it? We have one chance, were only after one guy, how hard could this be? Everybody in." Geoff finished, motioning for a cheerleader-esque-hands-in-celebratory-start to their mission.

At 7:44 pm, the sun began to slip behind the mountain, casting a harsh glare into James and Adam's hide out. They were the "bait" that would hopefully lure him out. He wanted them dead, for sure, and he'd take any opportunity to kill them. Idle chit-chat could be heard from about 10 feet away from the two which, coincidentally, is where he was. Planning his kill.

Ryan watched from his position, whispering over the com that he had visual on "Player 1". He kept his rifle tucked under his arm, waiting for the proper moment to attack.

"I second the visual on Player 1. Gav over." Geoff's com sang.

"Visual on Player 1 is third-Ed. Jack over." Another note to the intense song playing for them.

"So anyway, right as I was boarding the plane, this guy turns to me and says *click*- did you hear that?" James paused, familiar with the click of a guns safety being flipped off.  
"Adam, do you- do you-," he repeated, unable to form the proper sentence. James understood the situation his was in, and he understood that this was planned, however, he was still very scared for one of the best gun men in Los Santos was probably aiming a large number at his head.

"Complete visual on Player 1. Advance in 3... 2..."

"ONE!" Gav called out, jumping in time with Ryan and Jack out of their hiding spot, guns now aimed at "Player 1".

"Shit." Geoff's ears recognized the sound of at least 100 rounds firing from assorted guns, looking over to Michael for reassurance that his boys would be fine.

"Player 1 has been hit. I repeat, Player 1 has been hi-"

"We've lost visual on Player 1, Geoff!" Jack and Gavin barked over each other, Geoff's eyes widening as the thought of him getting away. Again.

"Oh no, that little bitch isn't going anywhere." Michael hummed, cocking his pistol and standing up.

"Michael, don't do it, please. I don't want him to hit you. You don't got body armor on." Geoff worried, trying to pull Michael back down to his previous position of sitting next to Geoff inside a strategically placed cargo bob.

"Listen, if I'm not back in 5, send Jack over with a med kit. I got my GPS on, relax." Geoff gulped and nodded as Michael hopped out of the aircraft and ran up the small hill, and over to James and Adam's hideout.

"Geoff, you know Micha-" James whispered, being cut off by the sound of more gunfire.

"Listen you two," Michael panted as he approached the hideout.

"Get outta here, go to Geoff. Save yourselves, I got him." Michael commanded, his voice being picked up by Adam's com.

"James, tell Michael to turn his pack on." Geoff asked, and James relayed.

"Testing, one, two, fucking three, Geoff I'm going after him now." Michael's voice rang out into Geoff's ear as he switched his pack on. The sound of heavy breathing and collective yelling was transmitted over everyone's coms.

"I have visual on Player 1. Gav's hit. Michael over." The Jersey boy announced, followed by a quieter conversation with Jack about taking Gavin to the cargo bob.

"Geoff, I'm bringing Gavin. Michael's out there with Ryan and the FH boys. Jack over." Geoff replied with a 'hurry you asshole', concern entering his mind as more rounds were fired on the other side of the hill.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then a recognizable screech was heard. Michael was on him.

"Player 1 is down. I repeat, I shot that fucker, Geoff. Daddy's got 'em." Geoff sighed with relief, calling the FH boys to the cargo bob, and telling Ryan to stay for backup.

"So this is it? You motherfucker. You fucking left us. You said you'd never come back. And you fucking lied." Michael growled, Ryan coming up behind him.

"Michael, come on. What happened? We were such good friends. Come on, man." "Player 1" panted, groaning in pain and grabbing at his side, where he was hit twice.

"Uh-uh. That shit don't work with me anymore. We haven't been friends. We used to be better friends, but in your last months with us we grew apart. Ryan? Finish him." Michael commanded. Ryan approached their victim, mask pulled tight over his face, revealing no sliver of emotion.

"Please, please, please... Please have mercy on me!" He pleaded, writhing on the ground, expecting a gun to go off any second.

"Please, Ryan. Please, Michael. Guys, please have mercy on me." He continued to cry out, tears now escaping his eyes. His glasses askew on his face, cheeks red from the heat and covered in dirt ad sweat.

"Please..." He breathed out, clutching his chest.

"Sorry, Ray."

Two loud gunshots. The coms went dead. Geoff had started up the helicopter to prepare for their quick escape. Everyone was packed in the back, and now he waited for Michael and Ryan to trudge over the hill.

"Damn. Bloody shame this happened, don't ya' think?" Gav questioned as Jack treated his dumb scraped knee.  
A few grunts gave him the answer he expected.

However, what he didn't expect was for only one person to make it back to the helicopter.

"Did'ja assholes miss me?" Ray smiled. A pin dropped. A grenade landed in between the pilot's and co-pilot's seats. The only thing heard was screaming, and finally a very loud, very violent bang.

"Guess they'll never learn. California heat does something to a guy."


End file.
